


Estrus

by Terminallydepraved



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Breeding, Canon-Typical Violence, Creampie, Fighting Kink, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Pheromones, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:01:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23118136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: Maybe splitting up from Dante wasn't the best decision Vergil had ever made.
Relationships: Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Original Demon Character(s)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 138





	Estrus

**Author's Note:**

> my lovely yougei's birthday was a few days ago and i wrote him this fic to celebrate!! i hope you guys enjoy it too <3

The air tasted different in Hell. Hot. Acrid. Charged. Vergil inhaled shallowly and felt it crackle along the back of his tongue like ozone. “Well then,” he said quietly, drawing the Yamato from its sheath as he took in the array of demons gathering before him. “Who’s first?”

He hadn’t expected so many demons in one place. This was supposed to be a barren section of Hell, a no-man’s land of inhospitable shrublands bereft of any life, demonic or otherwise. The quest for food, water, and shelter were ever present, and it’d taken ages to convince Dante to split up to cover more ground. Vergil tightened his grip on the Yamato and let out a sigh, preparing himself for the  _ I told you so’s  _ visible on the not-so-distant horizon. 

Despite the challenge, not many seemed keen on approaching. A few sniffed the air, snouts raised and snorting loudly. Others pawed the ground, shifting their weight from foot to foot as they took him in with black, beady eyes. Vergil sneered and didn’t lower his weapon. It stood to reason that these weaklings might hesitate. Pathetic. Just further proof that the only worthwhile adversary in this place slept at his back every night, snoring so loudly that it threatened to wake the dead. 

“Well, if you’re too cowardly to attack, then I won’t stand on ceremony,” he said quietly. He’d deal with this riffraff and be on his way. Though, given all the activity around him now, he had to think the prospect of suitable shelter along these parts was quickly becoming a pipedream. 

The wind shifted, coaxing his coattails into movement. Vergil broadened his stance and lifted his sword. His eyes sharpened as a few of the demons lifted their heads, muscles primed for movement. The energy in the air crackled with almost electric frisson. Vergil narrowed his eyes. What was this, now?

In the world of demons, most operated along the same rules as any other beast that walked the earth. Vergil prided himself on having more experience with the demonic than the mundane, but the behavior exhibited in front of him was… odd, to say the least. The shuffling feet, the pulled back lips… There was something unsettling about the way they were all beginning to circle. Wayward snarls and scuffles broke out when one demon strayed too closely to another. It was impossible to keep them all in eyesight; Vergil settled on fixing his attention on the ones in front of him, his ears keyed in to those straying into his peripherals. 

In the back of his mind, he could almost hear Dante’s unnecessary commentary coloring the tense mood. 

_ “It’s just a hoard,”  _ that voice cajoled, Dante’s grin shaping the words even with him miles away.  _ “You’ve taken worse on your own, haven’t you?”  _

Right. Annoying as it was to think it, he had encountered worse. Handled it on his own. It didn’t matter if they were acting oddly. They were just demons, and none of them were capable of causing him any measure of difficulty. 

“Let’s get this over with,” he muttered under his breath. The sooner he dealt with this the sooner he could move on with his search and rub his success in Dante’s obnoxious face. For all the years lost between them, that at least would never cease to be satisfying. “There are better things for me to be doing than playing with scum like you.”

If the demons understood him, they didn’t make it known. They just howled louder and sprayed more disgusting drool, some rubbing themselves against the ground as if scratching their bellies on the rocks and brambles. A few seemed inhibited in some way, incapable of walking properly. They dragged their bodies along the earth as they inched closer. If they accidentally touched one another, they struck each other and howled all the louder. 

The first to leap at him was the one Vergil had been eyeing from the get-go. A large creature of an almost canine persuasion, its fur matted with blood and mud and things better left forgotten. Vergil could smell the disgusting, reasty stench of it as it cut past him, his dodge smoother than butter. The creature landed poorly and whirled around, growling angrily when it turned and saw him still standing. It clawed the ground and its hackles rose. Copious amounts of stringy, thick drool dripped from its yellowed fangs. 

“Bad dog,” Vergil chided, rolling his eyes as he toyed with sheathing the Yamato. These were so far beneath him. It wouldn't do to give them the time of day, let alone the honor of dying on such a fine weapon. “Run along home. I’ve more pressing matters to attend to than playing fetch.”

The beast growled. Whether it understood him or not, he didn’t know and didn’t frankly care. It lunged again, but this time a few other demons in the wings let out loud snarls and darted in too. Vergil dodged each of them in turn, coattails flying like a dance as he spun this way and that. In the distance he could hear answering cries. More were coming, though he couldn’t begin to say why. Were they enticed by his power? Did they think he was a demon lord out for a stroll? Then again, he probably shouldn’t try thinking too hard on the inner machinations of the demonic dregs. There couldn’t be that much going on between their ears. At least, nothing worth knowing. 

But even with that said, he noticed that stronger demons were beginning to filter in with the small fry. Drool flecked the earth in almost constant waterfalls now, and many were letting out low, howling cries every time they leapt at him. With a scoff and a scowl, Vergil consented to drawing the Yamato again. He batted a few away and sent a few more flying. It’d be child’s play to unleash a few barrages of summoned swords and clear the area of these distractions, but if his power was the thing drawing these beings towards him, it would only prove to be counter-intuitive. 

That left him a bit strapped for options. There were at least two dozen demons surrounding him now, roughly half a dozen of them capable of doing some actual damage should they ever manage to land a blow on him. Vergil cut through one and another darted in to take its place. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume these creatures were drugged. The hazy look of their eyes and the ever present slobber might have been forgettable had it only been present in a few of the demons, but all of them? Even the stronger ones?

A note of disquiet threatened to flicker in the pit of Vergil’s stomach. He kicked a demon hard enough to send it flying, leaping backwards to put a bit of distance between himself and the hoard. He took in his surroundings. He bit down on his bottom lip. Should he… retreat? Only fools dove into the unknown in a place like this. If he wasn’t sure of what he was encountering, it could be prudent to find Dante, to seek resources elsewhere. 

_ “What? Couldn’t take a few lousy demons?”  _ came Dante’s aggravating drawl inside his head.  _ “Wow, Verg. And here I thought you were some big wig down here.” _

Vergil gritted his teeth and sent out another strike that sent more than a few demons flying away in pieces. No. No, he wouldn’t give Dante the satisfaction to rub his failure in his face. He’d be the one to bring back the best prospects for their camp tonight. Him, not Dante. 

But first, he had to clear the field. 

Striding forward, Vergil let the wind push him towards the frothing hoard. He drew back his sword and eyed a goat-like demon rising up to meet him. It was a small fry, barely worth the accumulated energy of his prepared strike. But that was fine. It’d just make an even more satisfying smear in the dirt once he was through with it. 

“Come at me,” Vergil intoned, his lips threatening to quirk upwards in a smirk. The beast reared back on his hind legs, a spray of thick saliva arcing with the movement. It lunged at him, and Vergil braced himself for the impac— 

Before he had a chance to strike, another demon barreled into the first. Claws glinted in the light as howls of pain and fury threatened to deafen Vergil completely. He leaped backwards and put distance between himself and the churning mass of muscle and teeth. A few more demons joined them, adding another layer to the cacophony rising up around him. 

“What the—” he began, looking around, mind scrambling to find sense in what he was seeing. He knew demons. He knew Hell. What was this behavior? Survival of the fittest was the rule of this place, but in his experience that would manifest in the demons ganging up on him, determined to work together to take down the biggest threat in sight. This was… this just didn’t make sense. 

Instinct flared in the back of his mind, a warning bell that made him evade a reaching swipe from behind. Vergil spun on his heel and saw that in his distraction another demon had come up from the depths below. This one was larger than the others, reptilian. It had a long, lolling tongue that poured forth from its mouth, its overly long arms dragging the ground as it stomped towards him, burning eyes locked on his person. 

“Sneaking up from behind? Pathetic,” Vergil spat, pulling the Yamato from its sheath once more. He lowered himself into a wide stance and readied his attack—

Only for a winged demon to fall from the sky, crashing into the reptilian demon in a furious heap of swinging talons and pointed intent. The reptilian demon let out an angry shriek and tore into its new adversary. Vergil’s lips parted in shock. Once could be written off as coincidence. Twice though… This just didn’t make sense. Demons weren’t beholden to that much. They could be territorial, but that was over contested land, hunting rights, breeding privileges. They were opportunistic but not suicidal. They wouldn’t throw themselves into the line of fire just to take him on first. 

The winged demon jammed its beak into the throat of its adversary. It died with a gurgle of smoking black blood. The meaty  _ thunk _ of it pulling free from the corpse threatened to turn Vergil’s stomach, but he suppressed it as the demon took a step in his direction. 

In the time it took to blink, another demon charged in to attack the blood-soaked winged one. 

The demons were… fighting, Vergil realized as he took a careful look around. But not for territory. They were fighting over him. For the first claim at killing him, perhaps. For the bragging rights of ending one of the last of Sparda’s line. Vergil bared his teeth and cut through the despicable display in front of him, severing the demons’ heads from their gouged shoulders. 

“I’m right here!” he shouted, bloodlust rising as he flicked the steaming blood from his blade. The demons were a churning, roiling mass of blood and flesh around him, some pausing in their carnage at the sound of his voice while others took the chance it was to disembowel their distracted prey. “Fight me all at once; it will make no difference in how this ends.”

Some listened to him. Others merely acted underhanded and went for the ones no longer watching their backs. Vergil cut through both with extreme prejudice, blood singing through the air as he carved a circle of space around him. A few managed to touch him, but none succeeded in doing more than tearing at his clothing, their long claws catching on the fabric to shear it off in long ribbons. Vergil paid it little mind. His coat succumbed first, then the catches on his vest. A leg of his trousers vanished with a  _ rip  _ lost in the mayhem of the melee. Vergil sweated as the churning heat of demonic bodies coalesced around him. There was a heavy scent in the air now, something much more pungent than blood and viscera. 

A demon with a mouth like a tarantula lost a hand reaching for Vergil’s sword arm. It had four others that kept trying though, even as the first flew off to join the other chunks of meat staining the ground. One managed to lock on Vergil’s upper thigh. It drew close, dropping to its knees, its face lunging forward as if to bite his leg. “Seed… of Spaaaaarda,” it hissed through its drooling jowls, eyes wide, maddened, almost overcome by some sort of unbreakable furor. “You smell… sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet.”

Vergil gaped, cheeks beginning to burn. He landed a kick on the creature’s chest and knocked it back, but instead of springing back up to come at him again, it rolled on the ground, clawed hands scrabbling along the impact point on its front as if it could consume Vergil’s essence from the brief point of contact he’d given it. It brought a hand to its face and ran its tongue along every inch of its disgusting fingers. Was that the hand that had grabbed him?

Vergil took an unnecessary step back and looked around again. His eyes tracked lower on the gathered demons. With an almost sickening sense of clarity, he understood. 

Rut. They were all in rut. 

Those with external genitals were swollen and engorged. He should have noticed it before, but he had never made it much of a habit to stare at his enemies in the crotch and hadn’t thought to change that today. Vergil scowled and reassessed his options. These beasts were scenting him, lusting after him. If mating were the main objective, then it would best if he made himself scarce. The lineage of Sparda was an illustrious one as far as demon heritage went; if any of these mongrels managed to hold him down and breed him, there would no doubt be considerable benefits beyond the immediate relief these creatures were no doubt seeking. 

Taking a step back, Vergil did a quick count. He could still fight his way out of this. He could— 

A few demons let out loud, angry brays. It jarred him from his calculations, and he looked up in time to see several flee. What was all of this now? Had they finally realized the futility of their idiotic goal? Vergil readied himself to gloat only to pause when he saw the rest of the demons staring at something just behind him. 

It was then that he felt a presence just over his shoulder.

Vergil looked at the ground. His eyes caught on the long, shapeless black mass that should, in theory, have served as his shadow. Should, of course, was the operative word. It was too large, and Vergil stilled as the ramifications of that thought struck home. 

Swallowing, Vergil slowly twisted his head and looked over his shoulder. A hot, humid wave of breath ruffled his hair, stinging the back of his neck. An enormous chest greeted Vergil’s immediate field of vision. It took the craning of his neck to take in the massive pair of horns and burning, blood red eyes of the demon looming just behind his back. Unlike most of the others, it was bipedal and hulkling, the intelligence in its eyes speaking of an upper tier demon. The being was covered in thick hair and possessed almost human-looking appendages. What resided between its legs, however, was decidedly anything but human. 

So, that’s why the weaklings turned tail and ran. Vergil supposed he couldn’t blame them for having some measure of perspective. 

With grace and poise, Vergil turned around fully and leapt back. With taurus demons the main thing to worry about was the reach of their long arms, the sharpness of their horns. Distance was the key here, and he sheathed the Yamato and readied himself to draw it the moment the beast charged. It was too bad that he didn’t have Dante here with him; that annoying red coat might actually have come in handy at a time like this.

Of course, then he would be besieged with terrible jokes about the beast being “horny” and tasteless comments on the size of its engorged genitals. Vergil bared his teeth at the thought. No, perhaps doing this alone was the better choice after all. 

But even as he prepared himself to attack, the beast did as all the rest had and turned its attention to the other demons lurking just outside of Vergil’s range. Its molten eyes narrowed and a bevy of steamy breath issued forth from its flared nostrils. A hoofed foot pawed at the ground, muscles bunching and pulsing as it leaned forward. Sensing that the thing was about to charge, Vergil took another preemptive step back. He needn’t have bothered though; its target was anything  _ but  _ him. 

Of the demons still standing their ground, the atmosphere grew charged with a fraught tension. No one moved a muscle as they waited for the bull demon to charge— but it didn’t matter in the end, as it only took the blink of an eye for the beast to move from one end of the field to the other, its horns goring through a dozen lesser demons before they had a chance to move. Vergil’s ears popped at the sudden displacement of air—the beast was _fast—_ and his hand grew slick with an almost nervous sweat along the hilt of his blade. The taurus demon let out a mighty cry and flung the corpses from its horns. It turned on its heel and readied itself for another pass, and this time, several demons gave up the fight and fled while they still could.

Regardless, a fair few still ended up speared on those horns. 

Vergil started when, after the bodies were thrown free from its horns, the beast turned to face him properly. The look in its eyes had changed. Something like unease flickered to life in the pit of Vergil’s stomach. There were no more demons to fight with, it seemed. This beast had won, and Vergil was the prize to be claimed. 

He brandished his sword when the demon made as if to take a step closer. “Stay back,” he ordered, baring his teeth. It was only then that he realized just how little clothing he was still wearing. Those damn mongrels had cut his coat to shreds, his pants only just clinging to his hips. “If you think I will fall as easily as those cretins, you’re wrong.”

The taurus demon came closer, unafraid, eyes burning like embers in the pit of a fire. Its nostrils flared, scenting the air. Scenting Vergil. 

“Spaaaaarda,” it said, voice like gravel, the words practically spat between its inarticulate jaws. 

“Oh, so it speaks,” Vergil sneered, taking as inconspicuous a step back as he could manage. “Good. Now you can beg for your life.”

The sound of grinding rocks rose up. Belatedly, Vergil realized the beast was  _ laughing  _ at him. Thick drops of black blood dripped from its gore-covered horns. “Beg,” it parroted, striding forward without any fear of the blade pointed at its chest. “Seeeeeeeed of Spaaaaaarda. Seeeeeeeeeded with mine. Beg.”

Vergil’s jaw dropped, his cheeks hot with sudden fury. The surprise was so strong that he failed to block the sudden swipe angled at his legs. Vergil let out a cry and hit the ground hard, the Yamato falling from his hand. He looked at it, judged the distance from him, but before he could make a lunge for it, an enormous hand pressed down on his chest and pinned him to the earth. Another gripped the remnants of his trousers and ripped the scraps to pieces. 

Cool air assaulted Vergil’s suddenly bare skin. He sputtered, aimed a kick at the enormous creature’s chest, but merely got his ankle snatched up and yanked away before he could get it to connect. “You beast!” he shouted as the creature stared intently at what lay between his legs, his damp folds clenching instinctively against the cold air. “Unhand me!” 

Another gravelly laugh. The beast inhaled deeply… and then shoved its face between Vergil’s spread legs to lap at him with a burning, broad tongue. 

Vergil let out a wounded yelp. He squirmed against the dirt and gasped, a flood of sensation ripping through him in ways he hadn’t experienced in… decades, at least. His hands grabbed for the beast’s horns, but his strength was sapped by the sudden pleasure. He gripped as tightly as he could and bucked into the tongue, traitorous body responding despite the ignobility of the situation. 

Hot breath steamed against his pelvis as the beast let out a choked groan. Its other hand reached for Vergil’s free ankle, spreading it further, splaying him wide until there was nowhere to hide. It licked over his folds with wide, rough passes, slurping wetly as its thick saliva combined with Vergil’s slick to make a wet mess of him. 

“Sweeeeeeeeeeeeet,” it growled, the vibrations only adding to the pleasurable haze tearing through Vergil. 

“Oh, my god,” Vergil gasped. It’d been too long. He arched into the tongue and let out a broken groan. The beast’s grip tightened on his ankles. It removed its head and howled its claim to the sky. 

The sound echoed for miles. Vergil tried to open his eyes, to catch his breath while he could, but the reprieve didn’t last long. His ankles moved higher as the beast rushed to fold itself between his legs. Vergil’s eyes widened as he caught sight of the creature’s cock. It was… massive. Almost frightening in its girth and length, the bulbous head twitching vaguely as it pressed against the pale pink folds and nudged his entrance. 

“It won’t fit,” Vergil heard himself wheeze mindlessly. “It won’t fit. It won’t.”

The beast said nothing. Words were beyond it, its eyes bereft of reason or the slight cognizant it possessed before it tasted his essence. It pushed forward. 

Vergil found himself proven wrong. 

He’d had sex with humans before, vague instances of carnal energy dedicated more to the pursuit of release than satisfying any sort of primal desire that may have crept up in him every now and again. They weren’t wholly satisfying, those instances. Humans wanted conversation, tenderness, emotion with their debasement, softening it until it barely felt like the animalistic drive it was meant to be. Vergil had never been able to be himself in those moments. He remembered tempering his strength, his lust, his hunger— 

There was no tempering anything this time. Not with a demon bearing down on him, forcing his thighs back until they rested on either side of his head. Vergil clawed impotently at the beast’s wrists, fingers skating off the impenetrable hide, his hands too small to wrap around the diameter. His mouth hung open, flecks of saliva rolling down his chin. In his ears he heard a broken wail, something akin to the death rattle of a tortured creature breathing its last. Something shameful in his gut told him the sound came from his mouth. 

Something base and ugly deeper inside him told him he didn’t really care. 

If asked, he would say there was a perverse satisfaction to be had in knowing that a creature had fought its kin for the privilege of bedding him. In knowing that his essence was so desirable, so sought after, that death was a viable risk to take. To be wanted so purely, so instinctively— There was nothing quite like it. Vergil let that be the reason why he laid back and allowed the beast to mount him. He let that sweeten the fullness that sank so very deeply inside him in one smooth, furtive thrust.

The beast was large, well in proportion to the rest of its enormous body. There was no comparing the feeling to the scant experiences Vergil had had with humans all those years ago, so he didn’t even bother trying. His thighs burned and his entrance ached from the intense stretch, but pain was a longstanding companion and didn’t do much to deter him from enjoying everything else about the situation at hand. 

The pace sped up, no quarter given for lack of experience or adjustment. And that was fine. Vergil hardly needed to be coddled. He just sucked in air and let out a breathless cry, head thrown back and spine arching helplessly beneath the enormous weight of the beast bearing down on him. The creature bellowed towards the sky and rocked forward, fucking Vergil across the broken earth. A lesser being would have been broken in half. It probably pleased the demon that he was capable of taking it, of taking all of it, so well. 

But could anything less be assumed of one of Sparda’s lineage? There had to be a reason for these demons flagrant interest in him, and Vergil supposed this had to be one of them.

The scent of sex and blood filled the air. Some part of Vergil responded to it instinctively, drinking it in and using it to fuel him as he bucked into the thrusts. He clenched around the massive cock and didn’t fight it as something took over his mind from the inside out. He burned,  _ ached.  _ More. He needed more. Rut bled into heat, and the fever of mating took over, the need to propagate, to carry on the bloodline, to make it  _ stronger.  _ This demon was strong. It had proven its superiority in front of him, and wasn’t that good? Vergil let out a loud cry and clenched furiously, milking the cock inside him. He needed it. He needed to be bred. 

Cum inside, a voice screamed inside his head. Do it. Need it. Breed me. Breed me. Breed me. 

In some back corner of his mind, a part far removed from the present, Vergil had to wonder how he’d ever go back to sex with humans if this was what it felt like to give in fully to the demonic. 

The pace sputtered. The beast above him howled. It rammed its hips into his pelvis hard enough to bruise and suddenly, everything became secondary as a burning hot wetness flooded his insides. 

Good. That was good. “Yeeeeeeeeeeees,” Vergil hissed, eyes rolling back in his head. The demon had done it inside, just as nature intended. 

It was the sensation of the beast’s release that pushed Vergil over the edge, some biological imperative he hadn’t known he’d had filling in the gaps for him and granting him the satisfaction he so desperately craved. His eyes were open but he saw nothing but sharp white light, mouth opened in a perfect O as the demon fucked its seed deeper with every pump of cum that came. It overflowed, coursing down his skin in hot, thick rivelets. 

Every orgasm Vergil had ever had was a short affair; this was anything but. Every gush of new heat sent him higher. The demon stayed buried inside him, not bothering to pull out until it had assured itself that it had fucked its seed as deeply as it possibly could, filling every single crevice to ensure the mating took. An enormous hand released one of Vergil’s ankles to settle over his belly. It felt the skin there, long claws tucked away to feel the slight bulge, a pleased rumble issuing forth like a purr. 

“Giiiiiive strooooooooong brooooooooood,” it slurred between its teeth. 

Vergil said nothing. He wasn’t that coherent. 

It was because of that incoherence that he failed to process the change in mood as it happened. His mind was floating along on clouds of pleasure and haze as the demon’s head turned sharply, spotting something in the distance. Its lips pulled back into a snarl. Vergil whimpered as it removed its cock in a rush. 

“Miiiiiine,” it snarled, flaccid cock laying limply along the cradle of Vergil’s hips, the tip smearing wet streaks against his nipple. He’d be a mess once this was all said and done. How he’d clean it was beyond him; he’d worry about it later. 

Whatever was beyond Vergil’s line of sight snarled right on back. The taurus demon lifted itself higher, cock dragging wetly against Vergil’s skin before leaving it entirely. It rose to its feet and let Vergil’s legs fall back onto the ground. Its seed poured out of Vergil, staining the dirt beneath him and coating his inner thighs. Vergil couldn’t find it in himself to be angry. Not when he felt so satisfied. 

He vaguely registered the taurus demon moving out of his line of sight. More guttural growls, the sound of fighting… The scent of fresh blood filled the air. Howls turned to screams of pain, then to silence. It must have fallen then. Oh well. That was the point of the breeding season, wasn’t it? Death meant little if your seed was passed on to a strong broodmare. Still, he told himself he should look and see what was going on. But he couldn’t. His body was floating, the afterglow still alive and well and devastating. If all those demons could fuck like that, perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing to play grand prize a little longer. 

The sound of snarls and howls grew louder. He didn’t need to lift his head to know that the hoard had reformed, the scent of his release like blood in open water. The in-fighting would start up again soon. Then, the strongest would prevail. 

“Well then,” Vergil rasped as he turned his head and faced the new assortment of demons circling him, deja vu rolling over him like a ripple of ozone before a lightning strike. “Who’s next?”

**Author's Note:**

> lol that was certainly a thing, wasn't it? if you liked it consider leaving a nice comment to let me know, and if you wanna see more of me and my particular flavor of depravity, check me out on twitter @tdcloud_writes and on my website at tdcloudofficial.com. until next time!!


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